He may not be (sigh) Matthew Crawley, but M really put on quite the dashing display of Solomonic wisdom this morning.
Efram usually gets out of bed first so he can lay claim to the morning paper. Sometimes, though, Bennett drags his surliness out of bed and gives him a run for his money. It is never pretty.
The boys raced down the stairs, half dressed, and had we not intervened, would have pummeled each other for the paper. When Bennett got to it first, Efram declared that he wasn’t hungry anymore and stormed into the basement.
After all attempts to have them sit side by side and read the sports pages together failed, M grabbed a pair of scissors and… yes, that’s right, sheared the paper in two. What a hero.
Sadly, it was not enough for Efram, who was already in a remarkable funk. I don’t know what his excuse was; he wasn’t up late watching Downton Abbey.  (None of this would happen if our butler woke up, split the paper, ironed it, then brought it to the boys in bed; they’d never know the difference.)
Because all the staff was off, we both had an especially productive Sunday. While M took the two boys skiing, I took the three girls to Costco and cleaned out the fridge. Sometimes I cannot bear the glamor of my life.
In the afternoon, while the boys watched football at various friends’ houses, M built yet more bookshelves in the boys’ room and shelving in the office. I walked into the boys’ room (he was listening to a football game and shvitzing from the lifting of heavy Ikea boxes.)
“I’m here to help.” I say.
“Great. Hand me that box,” and he points to a very long, very heavy looking box of Billy shelving.
“You do know that by ‘help’ I mean ‘offer moral support’, don’t you?”
He knows better. I do not, as a rule, lift heavy things. (I especially do not lift heavy things in and out of cars, and while on vacation.)  I tell him a few jokes, offer some refreshments and leave the room as quickly as I can before I am asked to do any more things that I do not do.
Today, I will be even more useless. How am I supposed to watch close to two hours of programming about a house full of servants and still be expected to cook dinner?

Posted in children, downton abbey, parenting, Seattle, sports on Jan 7, 2013